Web of Naiveté
Chapter 4: The Invitation
The next morning, Jennifer sat at her desk and stared at the screen. The document in front of her hadn’t changed in over an hour. She kept reading the same paragraph without taking anything in. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, but nothing came out. She had missed the deadline two days ago. It was not the first thing she had missed. Today, she was supposed to explain why.
Her supervisor called her into a meeting just after lunch and reminded her that this was the third missed deadline that semester and the second conversation they had held about her declining work. Jennifer didn’t argue when they told her she was being placed on istrative leave. She nodded, signed the paperwork, and walked out of the building without looking back.
When she got home, she dropped her bag by the door and stood in the hallway for a long time. The house had the wrong kind of quiet, not peaceful, only empty. She went into the kitchen and poured a glass of water, but she didn’t drink it. She just stood at the sink and looked out the window at nothing in particular.
She had been removed from her job, at least for now. The fact sat in her chest like a stone. She tried to tell herself it was temporary, that she could fix it once she got some rest. But she already knew that wasn’t true. Something was pulling her away from her life, and she was letting it happen.
She picked up her phone and stared at Donna’s name for several minutes before she typed the message.
- Jennifer:
Come over tomorrow evening. Seven. I’ll open a bottle of wine. We can sit downstairs where it’s quiet.
She stared at the words after she typed them.
They sounded like an invitation. They looked like a plan.
For a moment, Jennifer did not deciding on either.
Then she sent it.
Donna replied within ten minutes.
- Donna:
I’d like that. Seven works for me.
Jennifer stared at the reply for a long time. Her hands felt unsteady. She set the phone down on the counter as though it had burned her.
Later that afternoon, Susan called. Jennifer almost didn’t answer, but something made her pick up.
“Hey,” Susan said. Her voice was careful. “I heard you left after meeting with your supervisor. I’ve been thinking about you all afternoon.”
Jennifer sat down on the edge of her bed. She didn’t know what to say.
“Jen,” Susan continued, “you told me something felt off after that career fair. Since then, you haven’t been sleeping, you can’t focus, and now something happened at work. I don’t know what’s going on, but I can see it. You’re not yourself.”
Jennifer closed her eyes. For a moment, she considered telling Susan everything. The dreams. The way her body reacted around Donna. The message she had just sent. The meeting with her supervisor. The paperwork she had signed without arguing. The way she couldn’t seem to stop herself from doing things she knew she shouldn’t. But the words stayed stuck in her throat.
“Something’s wrong with me,” she said quietly.
There was a pause on the other end.
“What do you mean?” Susan asked.
“I don’t know,” Jennifer said. “I just… I don’t feel like myself anymore. I can’t explain it.”
Susan was quiet for a few seconds. When she spoke again, her voice was softer but more urgent.
“Then don’t be alone with it,” she said. “Come over tonight, or let me come to you.”
Jennifer opened her eyes.
For one second, she almost said yes.
Instead, she heard herself answer, “Not tonight. I just need to sleep.”
Susan did not answer right away. “Okay,” she said eventually, though the word sounded forced. “But I’m here. Call me if it gets worse. Promise me.”
“I promise,” Jennifer said.
After the call ended, Jennifer sat on the edge of her bed and stared at the floor. She had just itted out loud that something was wrong. Saying it made it feel more real. She didn’t know if that was better or worse.
That night, she lay in bed and tried to sleep. Her body felt restless and oversensitive. She kept seeing Donna’s face and feeling the memory of her fingers against her skin. Eventually, exhaustion pulled her down.
This time, sleep did not feel like escape.
In the dream, she was back in the garden.
The roses were tall and dark. She saw flashes of the first dream—Donna telling her not to speak, the light touch along her collarbone. Then came fragments of the second dream—the spider moving across Donna’s skin, the web stretching outward. The images twisted together and faded.
The garden dissolved.
She was in the basement now.
She and Donna sat on the old sofa against the wall. A bottle of wine sat open on the low table in front of them. Donna poured two glasses and handed one to Jennifer. Their fingers brushed. Donna smiled at her, slow and knowing, and Jennifer felt something loosen in her chest.
They talked, though Jennifer couldn’t what they said. It didn’t seem to matter. Donna’s voice was low and steady. She sat close, her knee brushing Jennifer’s. The air between them felt thick. Jennifer kept looking at Donna’s mouth. She wanted to lean in. She wanted Donna to lean in first.
Donna reached over and rested her hand on Jennifer’s leg. It was a simple touch, but it sent heat rushing through her. Jennifer didn’t pull away. She didn’t want to.
Donna leaned closer, her voice lowering beside Jennifer’s ear.
“I’ve been waiting for you to ask me here,” she said.
Jennifer woke up with her heart pounding. Her skin was damp with sweat. She could still feel the weight of Donna’s hand on her leg. She could still taste the wine from the dream. She lay there for a long time, staring at the ceiling, trying to steady her breathing.
Donna would be in the basement tomorrow evening.
Part of Jennifer was already counting the hours.